


A Study in Viridian

by the_actual_gay_disaster, umbrella_child (the_actual_gay_disaster)



Category: Sherlock (TV), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: DadLock, Izu and Sherlock got matching trenchcoats i love it, Izuku dies in BNHA but goes back in Sherlock, Multi, Poor John Watson, Sassy Midoriya Izuku, Sassy Sherlock Holmes, i know i should be doing other fics but, theres a bit of johnlock if u squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:49:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25014994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_actual_gay_disaster/pseuds/the_actual_gay_disaster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_actual_gay_disaster/pseuds/umbrella_child
Summary: In the last moments of Izuku’s death, as the life slowly leaves him from which he ended himself, he finds himself wishing for one last thing.“Please, wherever I go, please let me be normal.”____________________________________________________"Sherlock, you can't give a child nicotine pads!"
Relationships: Midoriya Izuku & Inspector Lestrade, Midoriya Izuku & John Watson, Midoriya Izuku & Sherlock BBC Crew, Midoriya Izuku & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson a teeny tiny bit if u wear extra prescripted glasses, You get the point - Relationship
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	1. Grey Skies

**Author's Note:**

> i know i should be updating mokuzai and dysphoria & daemon but like,,,i had a dream, and i wrote over 8000+ words on that dream. let's see how long it takes before i die inside again from not finishing my fics.

**Chapter One:** Grey Skies

Izuku was tired. He didn’t want this kind of life, where he was the outcast, laughed at and shamed for being without a quirk. Maybe a few weeks ago, while he was still writing in those hero journals, he might have found a reason to thrive, and maybe he could get into UA on that. He’d have to train quite a bit, but maybe. 

But no. As soon as he dreamed it and acted on it, it was shut down. Izuku, after the situation with Bakugou, was caught by a Sludge Villain, and then All Might save him. The excitement, of a proper fanboy was apparent. And a bit of hope. And with that hope, Izuku poured his heart out, because _surely_ the number one hero wouldn’t turn him away. He _wouldn’t._ Right? 

After that, Izuku learned never to wear your heart on your sleeve, because people will rip it right off, and be oblivious to your pain. 

_“No, my boy, you can’t be a hero.”_

Why? Why couldn’t he be a hero? Did quirks rule this world so tightly that whoever lacked any were immediate pariahs? 

In that moment, where Izuku was staring at All Might in disbelief, and All Might was smiling wide like he hadn’t just shot down a child’s dream and was currently watching him break down. 

“Alright, my boy, I’ve got to go.” All Might smiled one last time and watched the green-haired boy stare at the ground. He hated to be the one to do this, but the boy was quirkless, and he didn’t want the boy to die early, no child should. Hopefully the child listens, and becomes a police officer, or a nurse. Those are heroes too. Less known ones, but heroes all the same. 

He only had ten minutes left anyways, he should get some things done while he still has time. 

He should have known. He should have known it would be like this. He was quirkless, and Izuku wore it like a status. Even the number one hero was biased. But that didn’t mean everyone was. Izuku still had a little bit of hope, and with that tiny, miniscule droplet of hope, he applied for UA. 

The top hero school, the one school to go to if you want to shoot up in the hero ratings. The building looked majestic, and the colour of grey skies. And the school where the number one hero, All Might graduated. Although his opinion of the number one hero was smudged a bit, Izuku still hoped to get into UA, despite it being near-impossible. But he had hope, so Izuku, with only a bit of that renewed hope, stepped onto the cobblestone walkways. 

Izuku had worked for this. He wasn’t just going to complete the exams with no preparation. He had gone to multiple gyms, to work on his upper and lower body strength, in replacement for having no quirk. Izuku’s analyzing had gone off the charts, to the point where he could look at a person for ten minutes and know near-everything about them. It was so quirk-like that Izuku debated lying about his quirklessness, but he remembered that All Might was an alumnus of this school, and possibly told the principal. Izuku couldn’t take chances. He would try for this school. In these moments, it all came down to hope.

Izuku tripped on a loose stone in the walkway.

_And possibly balance._

Before Izuku fell on his face, he felt a force pulling him upwards. Izuku looked up slightly. A girl, somewhat taller than he was, with a cute blushing face, and a little smile. The girl had her hand on Izuku’s backside, and he deduced that the reason why he wasn’t currently becoming one with the stone, was because of her quirk, which could be gravity or flight oriented.

“Sorry for using my quirk on you.” The girl smiled, and her cheeks reddened. She disconnected her hand from him and let him stand back up.

“It’s bad luck to fall before an exam. Good luck.” She turned away from him and smiled brightly.

In that moment, Izuku smiled. All people with quirks weren’t like Bakugou. But then again, the girl didn’t know he was quirkless. It was possible that smiley demeanor would change. It always does. A generally kind person realizes he’s quirkless, and suddenly, another person joins the Let’s Break Izuku club, even if they don’t know it. But one thing was made sure. Izuku was going to _try._

It couldn’t be possible that the auditorium looked even bigger than the outside, with burgundy awnings, and a large stage where a large gold and silver emblazoned podium stood. Izuku looked at his seat card, and as he walked toward where he was supposed to go, he saw Bakugou sitting right next to where his seat was.

Izuku sighed. Hopefully, when he sat down next to him, he wouldn’t say anything about his quirklessness, not when there were so many people here. He just wanted to be normal. Just for a moment.

P̵̸͚͖̦̝͇͐͆͒̓͐͜͝f̴̸͉͇̞̻͚͇̿͋͆͘͝t̴̴̢͚͕̺̻̺̽̓͘͠.̸̴̙̝̻͚̠̟̿͒̚͝ D̵̸͚̝̺̫̠̽͐̚̕ö̴̵̘͚͍́͘͜͜͠͝n̴̸͔̘͕̘̞̞͑̓͆̓̚'̴̸̡͖͓͉͎̓͐̓͑̈́͜t̴̸̡̢̢͓͚͑͛͐̔͝ y̵̴̞̘̝͓͔͓͌͆͋͊͐o̸̵͙̙͓̫̼̺̐͐̓͆u̴̸̙͉͓̙͒̓͆͊͜ k̴̴̡͔͔̙͕̼̐͐̈́͆͋͘n̸̸̡͔̞̫͚͑͐̽̿̓͝o̵̴̙͉̘͉̺͖͑͒̓͆̚̕w̵̵̫̝̘̠͇͊͑͊̈́͘͜ y̵̸͇͇͎͖͌͒̒͑͠͠o̸̵̢̦͙̟͕͆͋̿̈́͑̚u̵̵̡̘͉̫͕͕͊̾̈́̓̒̐ a̵̵̠͖̞̺̪̦̐̽̕͘r̸̴̝̪͔̝͉̈́̐͆̈́̒̚͜e̴̵̺͕̪̞͋̓͛̿̿̈́͜ n̴̸̢͇̺̝͌͐̓̕̕͜ë̸̵̡̟͚͉̼́̈́̈́͠͠v̵̵̦͖̘͙̞͛̿̈́̚̕͠e̵̵̡͚̦̝̼͉̔͒͛͒̚r̵̵͉̫̙͙͉̈́̾̿̚ n̵̴̙͍̫͕͖̺͑͐̓͠͝o̵̸̢̺͖͕͙͍̓̈́̒͘̚r̴̴̻̠̻͕̾͐͒͑̕͜m̴̵͉̫̟̈́̾̽̈́͜͠ä̸̵͔̻͖͙͖̫́͋͌͐͆̓l̵̸̢̺͍̘̺̓̓̈́̕͜͠.̴̴̡̢̝̞͍̙͌͌̓̐͒͝ Q̸̵͉͓͎̺͇͌͌͆̐̿̈́͜u̸̴͎͎͕̟͊͒͊̚͜͝͠i̴̵̢̻͖͖̘͎̓̿͑̿̒̚r̵̸̡̞͖͕̪̝̓͊͑̔͘k̴̴͕̦̻͍͚͓͐̾̓̓̕̚l̸̵̢̘͍͇̝̞̈́͊̈́̈́̽e̵̸̢̡͚̙͍̫̒̈́͑͘̚͝s̸̵͔͇͇̐̈́̈́͑͆̕͜͜s̵̵̟̦͕̻̻̺͐͆͒̐̒͝.

* * *

In relief, Bakugou didn’t say anything, except staring at Izuku with a rotten scowl on his face. But then again, it was better than having him blurt out his quirkless status and watching those neutral faces turning into something of hate.

In the middle of Izuku’s thinking fest, an average sized man with bright fluorescent yellow hair and wearing beatnik sunglasses stood up to the podium.

“EVERYBODY SAY YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” The man, Present Mic, was met with silence, and stone faces.

“Wow, tough crowd.” Present Mic still had a bearded smile on his face and scanned the whole of the auditorium.

“Welcome to the UA exams, listeners! I bet my hat you guys have taken the practical test, but the physical test is something else, I tell ya!”

The sheer excitement of Present Mic was endearing, excluding the fact that there were underlying meanings between what he said, no matter how much positive energy was put into the words, there was the obvious message that not everyone would pass the physical test. There’s a reason why Present Mic does it and not any other staff member. Because he knows how to fabricate things, to make things sound better than they are.

 _‘Everyone knew this.’_ , Izuku thought. _‘But they ignore it, because ignorance is bliss.’_

But what Izuku didn’t know, was that he was currently mumbling, his words seeming to flow a million a minute, his fingers placed along his cheek, planning and thinking, which was what he did best. He ignored Bakugou whispering “Shut up, Deku”, and the wide stares of those around him. He could hear what Present Mic was saying, so there wasn’t any point in stopping.

“So, for the physical exam, there are targets for you to get in order for you to get enough points and pass the exam. First-” Present Mic pulled up a PowerPoint of the targets to eliminate.

“There are the first pointers. They are usually in great amounts, like 3 or 4 to a time. Then you have the second pointers, they are spread around a bit. Then there are the three pointers, who- Yes, examinee 7111?”

Everyone turned their heads toward the number chair called out. The individual sitting there had navy blue hair, a pair of silver-brown spectacles, and a stern manner. All in all, he looked like he had a stick up his ass.

“I see in the PowerPoint you have prepared, there are _four_ targets, and you only listed three. How can the greatest Hero School make mistakes like this? And _you!_ ” The individual pointed at Izuku, who was currently in another of his mumbling fests, turned toward the voice with a questioning look. He pointed at himself as if to say ‘Me?’.

“Something something blah blah heroics!” That was of course, not what the individual said, but Izuku tuned him out, because he had better things to focus on. So Izuku waved him off and said, “I understand Boring-san.” The last part was said quietly, where only the ones who sat close to him could hear it, and Izuku could hear a bit of snickers and giggles from his direction. A tiny smile came to Izuku’s face. At least he could bring someone else happiness.

Present Mic continued to speak.

“Ah, thank you, examinee 7111. Now, as I was going to finish adding, the fourth target is the zero-pointer. It has _zero_ points. It’s bigger than a military tank, and twice as annoying. Don’t go for it thinking you’re going to get instant lottery. It’s better to go for the one pointer, two pointers, and three pointers. Now, I’ve been talking way too much, some much needed action is required. Okay, so in a few minutes, you should change into your clothes that bring a bit more flexibility, and one more thing. Good luck listeners!”

And with that, everyone slowly drained out of the auditorium, and walked toward the changing rooms, male and female respectfully.

Izuku didn’t wear much of athletic clothing. So, he just put on a graphic tee-shirt and some sweatpants and frowning slightly as many other examinees lined up at the urban test area alongside him. Scanning the area behind and in front of him, he didn’t see Bakugou anywhere, so he assumed it was a trick of the system; so examinees would have to learn to work with people outside their friendship. But then again, it’s not like Izuku had any friends to begin with, so even if they did allow that, he would still be dreadfully behind. In his thoughts, Izuku didn’t hear the bellow of Present Mic, and realized that the exam was starting.

Izuku didn’t have a quirk to assist him with the targets, so he ran as fast as he could, using his well-endowed eyes to spot a pack of easy to eliminate robots. In a few seconds, Izuku saw a 3 pack of three pointers, and turned around to look at the mechanics. Looking at the side of one three-pointer robot, he saw a switch button, and in curiosity, he tampered with it. Immediately, the robot turned off. As it fell, Izuku looked on in surprise. Then he smiled.

Izuku assumed that this was put in main sight, but examinees ignore it in place of using their quirk. Now, a person without one, is currently racking up points _because_ of that fact. It wasn’t fair, but then again, what is fair, exactly.

This whole thing, applying to UA, taking the exams, was all because Izuku wanted to be a _hero,_ to be the medium between good and evil. The chaotic neutral, he would say.

“Five minutes left, listeners!”

The loud and boisterous voice of Present Mic woke Izuku from his subconscious, and slowly, he remembered that he was currently taking an exam, and it would not do to be so unfocused at a time like this.

Izuku took long, fast strides to every robot that he could find, and turned off their power switches. He didn’t have much time, and by the amount of robots he had dismantled, he assumed he had about 60 points right now.

But Izuku didn’t see the zero-pointer anywhere, and frankly, he was this close to calling UA’s bluff.

_Screech! Whrrr. Rrrrr._

The sound of locked and oily joints came from behind Izuku, and he turned, only to see the biggest lump of metal since the Aeroplane Graveyard. Well. At least UA didn’t go back on promises. But now there was a bigger problem. Quite literally.

As far as Izuku could see currently, there wasn’t any switch-off button, and the sheer weight of the zero-pointer could put any sumo-wrestler to shame. Including the fact that from the stomping footsteps of the zero-pointer, dust and dirt went flying everywhere, becoming brisker than a sandstorm.

But the zero-pointer didn’t cost any points, so Izuku treated it as a nuisance, and did what he had always done to things like that.

He walked away. He didn’t run, like he had seen many other examinees do. No, he walked. Because he knew that whoever was controlling the thing wouldn’t let it kill him.

_ScrEEEE!_

On second thought. Fuck being cool, this was his life on the line. But before giving up altogether, Izuku heard something come from under the zero-pointer.

_Help! Someone, please. Help._

In that moment, all tiredness was forgotten, and Izuku ran toward the zero-pointer.

In the observation corner, above the exam areas, most of the staff were in an uproar. Excluding Nezu, but then again, no one could really tell if he had emotions.

“Why were there switch buttons on the robots? Isn’t this an _exam_?” Midnight, a.k.a Nemuri Kayama asked with a frown.

“Robots need off and on switches, ‘cause they wouldn’t be robots otherwise.” Vlad King, also known as Sekijiro Kan, Class 1-B homeroom teacher.

“How would _you_ know? You aren’t an inventor.” Powerloader interjected angrily.

And Eraserhead was staring into space, waiting for the soft and inviting promise of sleep.

Izuku ran, almost close to tripping on some non-existent rock, to see who was under there. He was surprised to see the girl from before, red blushing cheeks now stained with grey dust, and her smile wrecked with pain. Izuku had ducked under the zero-pointer’s legs and tried to grab the almost lifeless girl from there. She was alive, and how she was favoring her right leg, she was probably hurt.

There were only about two minutes left for the exam, and it seemed that every robot target was snatched up, so even if Izuku wanted to snatch a few more, he couldn’t. Besides, he was comfortable with his 65 points. Even if he didn’t get first place, it was guaranteed he’d get a spot in the Hero Classes.

“That’s the end of the exam listeners! Pack it up!”

Seeing the girl’s somewhat smiling face as she was tended to made Izuku smile as he walked home. Hopefully, this hero school wouldn’t judge him for not having a quirk, since he had finished the exam just like everyone else, and he really couldn’t take any more disappointment. The only thing that was keeping Izuku up at this point was the promise of _maybe_ becoming a hero.

* * *

It had been a few weeks and saying Izuku was nervous would be an understatement. He was fumbling around, mumbling like there was no tomorrow. There was a chance that maybe, _maybe_ they had overlooked his quirklessness, and that he would be accepted, as a student of UA.

“Izuku!” The voice of his mother rang from downstairs. Immediately, Izuku ran, hearing the sound of the door opening.

Inko Midoriya was a woman of much faith. She trusted quite a lot, not dissimilar to this situation. Just a few months ago, Izuku had come home with tears on his face, eyes reddened with sadness. But she could see the determination in those pools of emerald. Inko was all for following your dreams, but she didn’t want her precious boy to die trying. She had already lost the love of her life; she couldn’t lose him too.

Now, holding the UA envelope, the school where her son bled, cried, and sweated to get into the school. Praying he would get in, and that he’d be safe.

Izuku held the envelope. It felt flat, like a letter was in it. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened it.

_Dear Examinee,_

_We have considered your application to Yuuei, and we believe that your abilities leave much to be desired. There is not much to be said in this letter, except that we are sorry to say that you have not been accepted to our academy due to your lacking in some areas. We hope you understand and have a nice evening._

_Sincerely,_

_Yuuei High._

Izuku blanked out. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything. It didn’t even sound like the letter was written for _him._ Like they just pulled a sheet from a stack and mass produced it. Unextraordinary. But he knew they gave those letters to the ones who failed. The weak ones, the unintelligent ones.

_The quirkless ones._

He could hear his mother trying to speak to him, but it all blanked out. He didn’t even cry. He just stared at the piece of paper, wondering how something so thin and small could have ruined his life. He had worked _so hard_ for this. So _hard._ He dreamed. He wanted this so bad.

Just because he was quirkless. Just because he didn’t have an ability 80% of the country had. So he had to get his dreams crushed. It wasn’t fair.

“Izuku let me see. Izuku-” Inko stopped once she read the letter, and immediately flung it like the trash it was. And looked at Izuku. He wasn’t crying. Just staring at the ceiling, so still, he didn’t look like he was breathing. Inko pressed her hands against Izuku’s shoulders and shook him silently.

“Izuku. Izuku.” A few minutes passed, and the clouds in Izuku’s eyes cleared. He cleared his throat and gave Inko a strained smile.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just a letter, just a letter.” Inko looked at the pure _pain_ in her son’s eyes, and his quivering lips. He repeated his words and shook.

“Just a letter.” Inko grabbed her son in a hug and squeezed him. She hated herself for being glad that Izuku wasn’t going to get hurt pursuing heroics. But she knew that, to have worked _so_ hard for something, and just be denied of it, it hurt. It wasn’t like any other pain. It was white hot and sharp, and no amount of kisses or hugs could heal the pain. It was always going to be there.

Izuku slowly walked up to his bedroom, opened the door, and slipped on his trusty red shoes, and a piece of paper. He put on his school uniform, for Aldera, and waited until Inko was fast asleep, about several hours later.

Izuku didn’t have a smile anymore, only a blank look that only veterans from war should have.

He didn’t try opening the door, and slipped out of his bedroom window, only the grey sky keeping him company as he slowly walked to his school.

The distance between the ground and Aldera’s school top was a considerable height. Izuku knew this. You could drop a bouncy ball, and it would’ve broken from that far.

The reason why Izuku decided to wear his uniform was for the sole reason that even when he wouldn’t be in this world anymore, he was going to bring Aldera down with him. It was going to be a petty victory, but frankly, he didn’t care.

Izuku slowly slipped off his shoes, the ones he loved so much, and pressed the sheet of paper he had against the washbucket, where he knew it wasn’t going to get wet.

The clouds darkened and crashed, and Izuku could feel the moisture that hung in the air. It wasn’t apparent, but Izuku was crying. The light raindrops meshed with his sad tears. He made no sounds, except the cry that came from leaving his mother. He loved her. He just couldn’t take it anymore. It would only get worse, and his mentality was far more broken than he had thought months ago.

It was with stiff maturity, that Izuku swiftly leaped off Aldera’s roof, his face set in grimness.

The sound of a body falling was disguised by the storming rain that pattered and pittered over Izuku’s almost lifeless body. With the last of the life in his body, Izuku wished for one last thing.

_‘Please, wherever I go, please. I want to be normal.’_

* * *


	2. Lukewarm Tea & Chestnut Sofas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pft. watson can't get a break.

** Chapter Two ** : Lukewarm Tea & Chestnut Sofas

On 221B Baker Street, John Watson was currently questioning his life choices while observing Sherlock sniff the side of a dog’s arse for evidence of a marital scandal. And in the end, the happy woman who gave Sherlock this job ended up maiming the man who supposedly showed infidelity in the relation. 

The only reason why Sherlock took this job was because of his ‘chronic boredom’. The case was finished in 10 minutes or less, and Watson was just on the sides, recording the interesting bits for his newly made blog. The case they had before, with the serial suicides, he called the case ‘A Study in Pink’, due to the last victim’s attire. After the case, if it could be called that, Sherlock paced around their shared flat, mumbling and fiddling. 

Watson knew that mannerism of Sherlock. He had been with him for a time, where he could tell that Sherlock was purely bored. And when Sherlock gets bored, it isn’t good. Which is the main reason why Watson keeps the telly and newspapers are delivered daily. Because otherwise, Watson was afraid Sherlock would create some crime just so he wouldn’t be extremely bored. But Watson somewhat agreed with Sherlock. While he wasn’t as bored as Sherlock, a bit of an uproar would be nice, to shake away the bit of the homeliness he’d caught by Mrs. Hudson. 

“Boys? You have a visitor.” The elderly kind voice of Mrs. Hudson rang from the lower apartments. Mrs. Hudson had the unofficial title of Watson and Sherlock’s housekeeper. And however much the lady complained about it, she still cared for the two when they couldn’t for themselves. (Which was all of the time.)

It was also unofficial that Watson always opened the doors. Which he did as of now, and both him and Sherlock’s eyes were glued to the person who sat at the door. 

* * *

A young woman, who looked to be in her thirties, with mousy brown hair and foggy spectacles, shook quietly. Sadness or anger, Watson had no idea. But he assumed Sherlock was now interested, and that was good. 

Sherlock glanced at the brown-haired woman, which was probably an indication to start talking, and to ‘make it interesting’. The brown-haired woman fumbled and began to speak. 

“So, I’ve heard you two solve mysteries of the mind and such. Well, I’ve got one to ponder on, and it’s quite the interesting one. So, I work at the nearest modern orphanage, and you know there are lots and lots of kids there. A few days ago, this kid comes from nowhere, and while we have lots of these cases, it’s peculiar. The child’s name is Izuku, he says, and his hair looks green, but it isn’t dyed. In hours, he has found things that we, as a whole, haven’t in a few years. Like my wedding ring. And one of the missing kids who we thought was dead. I came to you well, because how the child acted was extremely similar to how you portrayed things, as I saw in Mr. Watson’s blog- which is really good, sir.” 

Watson smiled.

“Thank you.” But his expression fell halfway when he saw Sherlock’s new expression. No longer one of boredom, but extreme interest. It wasn’t even a case, and now Watson feared that they would leave immediately. 

“Watson?” 

_ ‘Why’d you have to go jinx yourself, John?’ _

“Yes, Sherlock?” Watson inadvertently shrunk as Sherlock hopped up from his chair- _‘When did he sit down?’_ \- and addressed the brown-haired woman (Whose name was Mary) with proper briskness.

“Thank you, you shall go.” The brown-haired woman, Mary, scrambled out, possibly in a state of calmness. 

Watson was confused. What exactly were they doing _now?_ It was approximately 11 pm, and it was currently pitch black. 

“Sherlock? Why are we leaving _now?_ It’s almost midnight. And _what_ are we even doing?” Watson sighed as Sherlock slipped on his trenchcoat and moved past Watson, with an uncharacteristically big grin on his face as he turned towards Watson and patted his cheek.

“Oh, dear Watson, time is just a number.” 

* * *

Izuku was confused, for the umpteenth time. He appeared at this modern orphanage, with grey scaffolding and bronze awnings, where this nice woman took him in. The only thing he remembered was his name, and his age -which was currently 11- and some other things that didn’t make much sense in his scrambled brain. 

Izuku was housed with about sixty other orphans, all of whom who had some vendetta against him since he came here. They all whispered about him, ‘freak’, ‘weirdo’, things like that. But Izuku didn’t have it in him to care much. And then he found Miss Mary’s wedding ring, which was inside the washer, but according to her, she didn’t find it in years. And Twyla, the 17-year-old orphan who all of the caretakers assumed she was dead but found out it was quite the opposite. 

Then, Miss Mary started looking at him weirdly, and just a few hours ago, she left somewhere in a storm, a panicked smile on her face. If it weren’t for the way she walked, he’d assume it was something related to grocery shopping. And the rest of the orphanage kids didn’t like him, so he went to the currently vacated room he was in, and sat, in a catatonic state he only labelled his subconscious. 

* * *

Watson looked at the place they arrived to. A large, conglomerate building with bronze awnings, and the title **‘St. Amithrine’s Orphanage’** in flaking gold plating. They were going to an orphanage? 

_ ‘Then again, the woman did say it was a child.’ _

Sherlock looked carefully blank, as their cab drove away, and Watson himself was tired. He hadn’t gotten any sleep due to Sherlock’s nighttime adventures, and he started questioning if he would get arrested if he tried to sleep in one of those children’s beds. 

Sherlock took two steps at a time to the orphanage, and Watson dragged by alongside him, in a state of deathly paleness.

_________________

The orphanage looked weirdly modern, excluding the fact that there were televisions that looked like something out of a 1980’s box set of movies. There were also children gathered up against the doors, not dissimilar to a rats’ colony, omitting the unhygienic natures. 

Watson couldn’t believe that Watson thought a bank robbery was boring, but thought finding intelligent children was? Don’t get him wrong, he liked children. Just not Sherlock-intelligent ones. Hopefully the child didn’t act like him either. He couldn’t take two of this. 

Watson followed Sherlock, weaving through crowds of playing children, and a few teenagers watching over them. A few minutes passed, and Sherlock stopped at a mahogany door, with a rusted doorknob. Watson observed silently as Sherlock unlocked the door and opened it. ______________________________________________________________________________

Izuku was shaken out of his peaceful meditation with an opening of the door. Izuku’s eyes trailed to the frame of the door, where two men stood, nervous and excited respectfully. One man was wearing a brunette overcoat, with a lightly wrinkled face, who looked about in his mid-thirties. He was the worried one, for what reason, Izuku didn’t know. The other man was somewhat of an anomaly. He had chestnut hair curled up, cat-shaped chocolate eyes, and a humored smile on his face. Probably because Izuku had been staring for five minutes straight, and not saying anything. 

_ Oh. _

Izuku cleared his throat. 

“Hello.” 

Sherlock was interested. When that woman came in their flat saying those things, saying he was merely interested was an understatement. A boy just shows up, immediately finds things that adults twice his age couldn’t find in _years_? This was too much of an opportunity to pass up. 

The boy had long dark green hair, with equally coloured eyes, and a consumed look on his face, like he was thinking about something for quite a while. Sherlock recognized the look on his own face once. 

A few minutes passed, and the boy still wasn’t saying anything, and a little part of Sherlock questioned if he was mute, which couldn’t be, because the boy was mumbling. Then the boy looked up and cleared his throat. 

“Hello.” The boy’s voice was aged with the British accent, but sounded a bit foreign, like it was from somewhere in Asia. Possibly. The boy, attempted to smile, but stopped halfway before looking at Watson. 

The boy’s eyes narrowed, but quickly smoothed out as a neutral expression appeared. Sherlock hummed in interest, while Watson’s standing frown increased. Despite that, Watson stepped up. 

_ ‘What a wonderful show of bravery. You’re improving, Watson.’ _

“Hello, and you must be Izuku?” Sherlock looked at Watson, who currently was wearing a constipated smile on his face. 

‘Izuku’ calmly peered at Watson.

“I assume Miss Mary has already told you that, Sir.” Izuku stretched his arms and yawned. 

_ ‘Oh, it’s about 12 am now. I forget people sleep.’ _

The creases in the middle of Watson’s forehead squeezed together, and for the sake of not having any unneeded problems, Sherlock took it over.

“Yes, I am Sherlock Holmes, and this here is my assistant, John Watson.” 

Izuku sighed and yawned again. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sherlock and Watson.”  
  


Walking outside at 1 am with a child wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that the child kept mumbling and fidgeting, even when they were in the cab. Watson wasn’t even sure why the child wasn’t sleep by now and hoped that he would. He wasn’t up for seeing _two_ mentally advanced but slightly insane insomniacs up at 3am playing Scrabble. 

_ ‘Speaking of Scrabble, I need to buy a new board.’ _

The child, Izuku- thank _god_ \- slowly drifted off as the cab was parking by 221B Baker Street, but then Watson questioned how they were going to get the child out. 

_ ‘Sigh, you have hands, Watson.’ _

Watson emitted an audible sigh, and moved to pick up the green haired child, but then Sherlock waved him away. Watson paused in confusion, before Sherlock stood up, and gently cupped the child’s head, before picking him up, and leaving out of the car door, which was efficiently parked by their flat. 

As Sherlock left, Watson followed with an incredulous look on his face. 

Then again, you couldn’t blame him, seeing a normally blasé and uncaring man pick up a sleeping child with utmost gentleness. 

Even though Watson found this endearing, a little part of him didn’t. (read: big part)

_ ‘Sherlock, in no way, should be taking care of a child.’ _

Surprisingly, Mrs. Hudson was still awake, sitting by the parlor and drinking a cup of tea, a trained look on her face, scarily not surprised at seeing Sherlock with a child. 

(It’s kind of frightening how neutral she looked, Watson hasn’t known her for long.) 

Mrs. Hudson sighed.

“What have you two gotten yourselves into now?” She stirred her tea thoughtfully. Sherlock, surprising both Mrs. Hudson and Watson, was still holding the child, with another neutral look on his face. 

A bit of silence took over the airy room, as Watson stared at Sherlock and vice versa. Mrs. Hudson audibly sighed again. 

“I assume you didn’t kidnap the child?” Watson almost snorted at that. What were the odds of Sherlock actually taking precious time to go and kidnap a child. Moreover, from _where_? There weren’t many children around here. Probably why they chose this place. 

Sherlock quietly frowned. 

“Of course not, Mrs. Hudson. I believe he came here on his own accord. We picked him up from St. Amithrine’s, by assistance of one of the guardians. Watson thought she was quite pretty.” 

The comment made Watson wince. He didn’t find all women pretty immediately.

_ ‘Yes, yes you do Watson. Accept it.’ _

Mrs. Hudson scoffed. 

“And, why exactly? Did you just fancy yourself a child?” 

Watson sighed again. This was getting to him. 

“No, Mrs. Watson. He was interested because the child thinks, and acts like him. He might as well look like him, excluding the strange green hair. Same mannerisms. Near gave me an aneurysm.”

Watson found himself rambling, which really was not like him, but then again, a lot of things he did weren’t like him. 

“Yes, Watson here is somewhat right. Also, the child’s green hair is cool.” 

_ ‘Cool? Cool? Oh, I think I’m on something if Sherlock said ‘cool’. _

Mrs. Hudson nodded like she hadn’t heard Sherlock say ‘cool’. 

_ ‘Am I the only one that’s seriously worried?’ _

“Sherlock, dear. Do you know how to take care of a child? Also, you’ve been holding the child for thirty minutes, he’ll wake up with a cramp.” Mrs. Hudson frowned. 

Sherlock peered at her for a moment. 

“I’ll pick him up.” The sheer confidence in Sherlock’s voice made Watson scoff. Him, the sociopathic self-employed man who thrived on making people feel stupid? Additionally, Mrs. Hudson frowned in concern.

“I’ll leave you then, it’s about 2 am now. I’m getting more gray hairs from this. So much for eternal youth.” Even while Mrs. Hudson retired for the night-err, morning, Watson could tell that she’d be making an appearance later on. 

But there were more urgent matters.

“Where is the child going to sleep?” Watson interjected. Sherlock smiled, and in that moment, Watson has never felt more uncomfortable. 

“Oh, Watson, don’t worry.”

_ ‘I’m definitely going to worry.’  _

The child ended up sleeping on one of Mrs. Hudson’s chestnut colored sofa that had a pull-out mattress. Watson scowled when he realized Sherlock played him, and he had no exact reason to worry about anything from that moment. 

Another thing. It was about 4 am, and Watson could _hear_ Sherlock pacing around in his bedroom. 

_ ‘I never knew footsteps sounded so loud.’ _

It was safe to say that Watson was in for another bout of insomnia. 


End file.
